The Girl He's Going to Marry
by SamoaPhoenix9
Summary: What if the Prince and the Enchantress met before that fateful winter's night?


The Girl He's Going to Marry

_Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast or its characters._

He knew he was going to marry her as soon as he saw her. The beautiful lady across the room with the hair more golden than anyone else's.

"Pssst, Antoine!" Prince Vincent whispered to his oldest cousin. "Who is the delicious morsel talking to Baron de Tours, the one in the emerald gown? And why haven't we been introduced?" As heir to the kingdom, Antoine knew most of the aristocracy, even the more minor nobility that rarely left their estates.

Antoine looked, and seemed to stiffen. "Oh, no, Vincent. You're barking up the wrong tree with her. Forget about it."

Intrigued, Vincent raised his eyebrows. "Why? She can't be a peasant, even a wealthy one, if she has an invitation to this ball."

"She's not a peasant, but…" Antoine visibly struggled. "She's the daughter of the Comte de Strasbourg. The Lady Esmeralda."

"I thought the Count only had two daughters. Lady Stéphanie and that Lady Isabelle, the one who ran away a few years ago to marry a peasant inventor."

"Lady Esmeralda is the youngest daughter. No one has seen her in years because she was sent away to be raised with her mother's people—the mother is from some minor branch of Hungarian nobility east of Vienna. Such a shame that the oldest sister's disgrace means that youngest had to be raised by German barbarians." They shared a small grimace of disgust at the mention of their German neighbors.

"Then what is behind Lady Esmeralda's sudden reappearance?"

"Marriage market. The rumor is Comte sent her away to live down the oldest girl's scandal, but he must feel now that people have forgotten enough that this daughter will be thought a catch again." Antoine's eye roll expressed what he thought of this strategy. "Apparently she was forbidden to find a match at the Austrian court—only a proper Frenchman would do."

"Beautiful enough to pass as a pure Frenchwoman." Vincent allowed a small sigh into his voice. "She must have inherited more of her father's blood."

"Perhaps," agreed Antoine, but added warningly, "But with the family history, you'd best stay far away. You're a prince of the realm—surely there are hundreds of women more worthy of you than the half-German daughter of a mere Comte. Between that and the older sister's scandalous behavior, she's not even worth considering except possibly as an exotic mistress after you're married to a proper girl."

"Hmm," Vincent said, hoping the noise sounded like agreement. At that moment, a few barons ambushed Antoine to grill him on his father's latest plans for new taxes. Vincent gratefully slipped away. As the son of one of the King's younger brothers, he was technically a prince, but he was so far away from the throne that he'd never have to worry about ruling the entire country. Taxes, floods, bread prices and other such talk bored him to tears. His father was still young and healthy and there was no reason to think the burdensome responsibility of ruling their small province would come to him anytime soon. He preferred to spend his time at more agreeable activities, such as hunting and dancing.

And flirting with beautiful women. The closer he got to Lady Esmeralda, the more he liked what he saw. Her heavy wheat-golden hair was a standout even amongst all the other beauties in the room. Her skin was creamy pale without a hint of a blemish. Her eyes, he now saw when she spared him a glance, matched her gown exactly. Immediately after they made eye contact she looked at the floor.

_A modest girl,_ he thought. He liked that.

He bowed to her and to the Baron de Tours. "Good evening, my lord," he said.

"Good evening, your highness," the older man acknowledged.

"I don't believe I've been introduced to your lovely companion. Would you mind doing the honors?"

"Of course. This is my enchanting niece, the Lady Esmeralda de Strasbourg. Lady Esmeralda, his Highness Prince Vincent."

"A pleasure." He kissed her hand. She dipped a tentative curtsy that was nonetheless graceful. Apparently she had learned that much in Austria. "May I welcome you back among your family in France?"

"You may." She kept her eyes on the floor.

"And will you permit me to ask you for the next dance?"

This time her head came up and she actually met his eyes with her bright green ones. She seemed surprised. She glanced at her uncle, who nodded encouragingly. "I would be honored, your highness."

She was an excellent dancer, light on her feet and sure as she glided through the steps, even if her face was still uncertain. He plied her with nothing-statements about the weather and other innocuous topics until at last he sensed she'd begun to relax. He'd never met a lady so shy with him before; most of the young women of the court were eager to catch his attention. Not only was he a titled prince and set to inherit land someday, but he'd known for years women found him physically pleasing. No young woman had caught his eye as this one had, though. And her hesitant manner was all the more attractive to him. She represented a challenge. Someone he'd actually have to woo instead of a girl who would fling herself at him. But he knew he'd win her over in the end.

-0-0-0-

"Cogsworth!" Vincent bellowed a few days later.

"You bellowed, sir?" Cogsworth said, appearing instantly in the door.

"The sense of humor is uncalled for," said Vincent.

"Sorry, your highness. It won't happen again. What is your wish?"

"I want to know why these roses are pink. I specifically requested red," said Vincent. He already knew his head of household's promise would be broken within the week. The man's prim, dry quips were irrepressible. They annoyed Vincent but his father—who had gone to school in England-found the plump Englishman hilarious, so Cogsworth stayed on despite Vincent's hints that his insolence should not be tolerated.

"Sire, there are no red roses in the hothouses," said Cogsworth. "They were all used for decorations for the ball last night. Pink is the best the staff can do just now."

"Well, find some red ones! Pink just isn't romantic enough for Lady Esmeralda."

Cogsworth's lips pursed ever so slightly and a wrinkle appeared between his brows, but then he bowed. "Of course, sire. We shall do our utmost. Will that be all?"

"Yes. For now. You may go."

Cogsworth bowed again and departed. He passed the maître d' Lumiere on the way out. "Your highness," the lanky man said, sweeping an extravagant bow. Vincent narrowed his eyes. With Lumiere, a proper Frenchman, every motion was always exactly correct, but just exaggerated enough that Vincent sometimes suspected he was being mocked. The maître d' had been with the household for years, since Vincent was a boy, and was inclined to take liberties with his betters on occasion.

"What is it, Lumiere?" he sighed.

"I happened to notice your highness put in a few special requests for dinner tonight. I previously understood it was to be a private family dinner, no, but you have invited the Comte de Strasbourg and his beautiful daughter?"

"Yes," said Vincent. "I plan to propose to the daughter tonight."

There was a brief pause. Eventually, Lumiere ventured, "I trust the young master has discussed this step with your honored father?"

"No, this way he can't object. And you're not to tell him and ruin the surprise. That's an order."

"Yes…your highness. I understand, of course. But, if I may…"

"Are you also going to tell me she's not worthy of my hand due to her sister's disgrace?"

"_Non_, not at all! The lady has many fine qualities. What happened with her sister was unfortunate, but it is hoped Lady Isabelle is happy in her choice. I do not think it reflects poorly on Lady Esmeralda at all." He ignored Vincent's snort. "But, such a quick decision…at the very least, you should talk to your father. He will want to inspect the girl as a future daughter-in-law and not just an unusually beautiful guest."

"So he can talk me out of it? No. I knew the second I laid eyes on her I was going to marry her. She's the first girl who has really caught my eye, and I'll have her or no one."

"And what has the lady to say on the matter?"

"She can hardly have doubts as to my intentions."

Over the last few days, Vincent had sent Lady Esmeralda flowers and a few beautiful pieces of jewelry left by his own mother, who had died years ago. He had sought her out each evening and had even taken her out walking the day before. With a chaperone, of course.

Lady Esmeralda was always poised and correct. She still seemed shy, and had only permitted him one kiss on the cheek. In fact they rarely spoke of much when they were together. She hardly ever smiled more than just a tiny upturning at the corner of her mouth. Her silence endeared her to Vincent more. He couldn't stand women who chattered incessantly. After their marriage, he expected his life would continue exactly as before until the day his father died and he inherited his crown.

Lumiere was still looking slightly uneasy. "That's not what I meant, your highness. I meant, do you think she wants to marry you? Are you so certain she'll say 'yes?'"

"You presume too much because of your long service in this household, Lumiere. Of course she wants to marry me. Every single woman for leagues around wants to marry me. She'll be honored by the proposal, that I've deigned to ask the daughter of a Comte and ignored her sister's indiscretion."

"Please take care, your highness," begged Lumiere. "I know you are used to getting your own way, but in this delicate matter of the heart—"

"Enough!" Vincent growled. "Now you go too far. Just do as I say, and get out!"

"Yes, sire." Lumiere bowed stiffly and departed.

Vincent huffed after him in annoyance. The servants here really did need to remember their place. Cogsworth, for all his irritating sense of humor, at least kept his opinions to himself. How dare Lumiere suggest Lady Esmeralda wouldn't want to marry him! He'd show them all with his proposal tonight.

-0-0-0-

Vincent wasn't so lacking in protocol that he wouldn't follow all the correct etiquette when it came to a proposal and engagement. He went first to the Comte de Strasbourg to ask his permission. The Comte's face lit with joy when Vincent explained what he wanted. He heartily consented, and assured the prince his daughter would be honored beyond words to accept.

The man's reaction soothed Vincent's nagging worry that Lumiere was right and perhaps Lady Esmeralda didn't want to marry him. But who would know the girl better than her father? If he said she'd be delighted, then she must be happily anticipating Vincent kneeling before her with a ring.

To his relief, everything he had requested at the dinner was present, with one minor exception. The staff had been unable to locate fresh red roses. Vincent would have to make do with his bouquet of pink ones. It was irritating, but Vincent managed to brush it off this once. Nothing would ruin his good mood for this occasion.

He was seated next to Lady Esmeralda at dinner. Her face was pale, and he noticed her hands trembled slightly. He tried to smile reassuringly at her several times throughout the meal, but that did not provoke the tiniest corner of her mouth to twitch. The Comte alternated between beaming at Vincent and sending very stern looks at his daughter. Vincent's father, Prince Christophe, who had been quite surprised when his son insisted the Comte and lady join them for their private family dinner, watched all of this with his usual control. However, his eyes grew slightly narrower every time he looked at Vincent. Towards the end of the meal, he managed to catch his son's eye and give a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Vincent turned away, pretending he hadn't seen.

When the meal was over, his father stood. "Son, may I have a word with you privately in my study?"

"Of course, Father," said Vincent. "But, first, I have a question of great import to ask Lady Esmeralda." The corners of his father's mouth went white, but he said no more.

Vincent knelt before the lady and took her hand. She was trembling visibly now, and her face was very pale, but she kept her head up and looked him in the eye.

"Lady Esmeralda," he began. "You are beautiful beyond expression. You captured my heart from the first, and I knew I must do anything in my power to make you mine. Will you make me the happiest of men and consent to marry me, and be a princess in title as well as in looks?"

There was a long silence. Both fathers seemed to be holding their respective breaths. Lady Esmeralda looked at her father, and Vincent thought he detected a hint of pleading there. Then she looked back at him, and took a deep, slow breath. When she spoke, every word was low, but crystal clear.

"I am utterly overwhelmed with your offer, your highness. Please, of your goodwill, grant me one day to think. Tomorrow night, I promise I shall give you my answer."

Though taken aback somewhat, Vincent managed, "You have your one day, of course. What can I do in the meantime to persuade you to accept me?"

"Let me have the day alone tomorrow." Now she did manage a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Prince Vincent, you must understand I cannot give you an answer now, before I've had time to fully consider. It's not necessarily that I don't want to marry you, but I need to think if this is the life I want."

"Done," said Vincent's father quickly. "You are wise to take the time to consider, my lady." This last was clearly directed at Vincent, an accusation of doing exactly the opposite. "We will see you both tomorrow at dinner." Firmly, he flicked his eyes towards the doors to his study. This time Vincent could not pretend he did not understand. As soon as the Comte and Lady Esmeralda had departed, both men made their way inside. Prince Christophe sat down at his desk, while his son remained standing in front of it.

"I suppose you're going to list all the reasons why I should not marry Lady Esmeralda," said Vincent as soon as his father settled. "Go ahead. What's done is done; I've already proposed."

"I know. Another time, I might have, but what you have done can't be changed. It's in the girl's hands now. Thank God one of you has some sense."

That stung. "Father—"

"Silence!" snapped the older prince. "You've placed me in a difficult situation, boy; I had a few other girls in mind as possibilities for you. If she does accept you, I will have to placate _their_ fathers in some way, to assure them that it's no slight to them that you selected the mere daughter of an Alsace Comte, and worse, one raised in Austria."

"If I can overlook her few faults, why can't you? She's perfect in every other way."

"From what I've seen, I agree."

Vincent blinked. "What?"

"She's a lovely, quiet girl and will make you as good a wife as any of the other potential brides I had in mind. Her rank and family make little difference to me personally, though it would have been nice if your eye had fallen on someone of higher birth and better connections. She will likely bear you fine, strong children. But why did you have to act so rashly, Vincent? Were you so certain I'd disapprove that you had to go behind my back? I'm disappointed you felt such subterfuge necessary, son."

"But—" stammered Vincent. His father's words had brought forth an emotion he rarely felt—shame.

"As you said, what's done is done. It can't be changed. The girl has the day to think on it, but I hope for both your sakes she refuses you. Not because she isn't worthy, but because of your haste to push this through. I fear this notion of marrying her is nothing more than a childish whim, one you'll soon grow tired of. A marriage is for life, and if you act rashly now, you may regret it later."

"Did you regret wedding Mother?" asked Vincent.

"No," said his father. "I only regret we did not have more years together before she was taken back to the Lord. If she were here now, perhaps she would be able to make you see reason. As it is, she is not, and I've done my best." He sighed. "I give you my blessing to begin planning the wedding, if she accepts you tomorrow. I must leave as soon as it is light to visit Lord Bateaux at his estate and sort out his taxes—again. I should return in three days."

"Yes, Father," said Vincent. "Do I have leave to go?"

Prince Christophe nodded, and Vincent left. He smiled as he closed the door. He'd expected an angry scolding about duty and responsibility, and demands to retract the proposal, no matter what propriety dictated. Vincent was proud of himself for figuring out a strategy to keep his father from preventing his marriage. The Prince had always been the one who told him he couldn't have things he wanted growing up. At least this time he couldn't deny Vincent his choice of brides.

Vincent thought he heard angry shouting coming from the guest quarters, but he headed in the opposite direction towards his own suite in the West Wing and the sounds quickly faded behind him.

-0-0-0-

As promised, Christophe left early with a small set of staff and servants to solve whatever problem Lord Bateaux was having with his taxes. Vincent spent the morning relieving his impatience by sending the servants on pointless errands. In the afternoon, he ventured out into the local village. As usual the peasants fell over themselves to serve him and the young women to flirt with him. Feeling satisfied, Vincent gave the final shop—the bookshop, not a store he was particularly interested in—a pass and turned to beckon to his carriage.

The driver smartly whipped the horses, who fairly charged down the cobbled street. Everywhere people scattered to get out of the way, except for one dark-haired young lad of perhaps ten or so who had been playing some sort of game in the street and failed to notice the carriage bearing down on him. The boy's friends playing with him shouted a warning but it was too late. The boy turned, saw the carriage, and froze.

Vincent reacted without thinking. He was the only one in range, so he took two steps forward, seized the boy bodily and dragged him out of the way. It was harder than he'd anticipated. The boy was big for his age and also, for some reason, fought Vincent's grip.

"Let go of me!" the boy snapped as the driver tried to get the horses under control behind him. "I could have gotten out of the way myself!"

"Are you mad, boy?" Vincent demanded. "I just saved your life!"

The boy finally seemed to register just who it was who had pulled him out of the street. He went white.

A tall man pushed his way out of the gathering crowd. "Gaston!" he shouted. "Show some respect to his Royal Highness!"

"S-sorry, your highness—ow!" the boy's statement ended in a cry of pain as the man seized his ear and twisted it savagely.

"Thank you for saving my idiot son's life, highness," the man said. "I hope you aren't offended by his lack of gratitude." The fingers did not slack their grip on the ear the entire time.

"No, no," said Vincent, waving a hand. Oddly, he wasn't offended. Maybe because his heart was still pounding with the shock of how fast everything had happened.

"I am so sorry, sire," gasped the coachman, leaping to the ground and rushing up. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm fine. But perhaps we should be going now. I don't want to be late for tonight."

"Of course." The man stepped back and opened the coach door.

"Thank you for saving me, sir," piped the boy from behind him.

"You're welcome," said Vincent automatically. As he climbed into the carriage, he watched the boy's father drag him away, still holding him firmly by the ear. Vincent rubbed his own ear. Luckily for him it was forbidden to hurt the body of a royal prince, even for punishment. It was easy to see the boy trying not to cry out again from the pain, and Vincent couldn't help wondering if he was about to get worse once they reached home.

-0-0-0-

The incident was soon forgotten upon return to the castle. Vincent dressed carefully, distantly noticing the wind had begun to howl and a few flakes of snow were flying past the window. An early winter storm was closing in. If this kept up, his father might be delayed another day or two.

Vincent was waiting in the main hall for Lady Esmeralda to appear from her guest suite when he heard a weak knock on the door. He glanced around, but none of the servants was in sight. They must be all off putting the finishing touches on dinner. So he went to the door and opened it. Almost immediately he stepped back a pace in disgust.

The woman outside was hideous. She was dressed in tattered rags, her skin was a mass of wrinkles and chapped from the cold, and she was missing an eye. When she smiled he could see she was also missing most of her teeth.

"Please, sir, I request shelter from the bitter cold," she said. "Just for the night, and I'll be on my way tomorrow. I can offer a small payment for your kindness." From under her cloak she drew out a brilliant pink rose, which she had obviously been carefully guarding from the wind.

"I don't need a rose," said Vincent. "And I don't want you frightening my future wife. Go away and seek shelter in the village!" He started to shut the door.

"Sir, I warn you this once." The woman's voice was a little stronger. "Do not be deceived by appearances. True beauty is found within."

"What do you know of beauty? You're nothing but an ugly hag," sneered Vincent. He slammed the door shut.

It was shoved open almost immediately. Vincent staggered backwards as both doors swung in with impossible force.

The old woman still stood there, but then she…shimmered somehow, and it was Lady Esmeralda standing there in her rags, holding the rose. Belatedly, he recognized one of the roses he'd given her himself the previous night. Another shimmer, and she was dressed in the green gown she'd been wearing when they first met. "More than you, apparently," she said in answer to his question. She began pacing forward, and Vincent found himself backing away involuntarily.

"Lady Esmeralda? But…how…"

"Magic," she said. "I'm an enchantress, from a long line of enchantresses. It is the custom among our kind to test potential grooms to ensure they are noble and worthy men so that any daughters born of the union with magic will be raised not to abuse their powers. Men who fail our test are punished."

"Esmeralda…" said her father from behind Vincent. He stood on the stairs, having apparently come in unnoticed by either of the younger people. "Don't. He's a royal prince. We'll all suffer if he is harmed."

"I'm sorry, Father, but rules are rules. In matters of magic, you have no say. You knew as much when you married Mother. Grandmother told me you barely passed your own test, and after this week, I see why." She glared at him, and he actually quailed under the ferocity of her gaze.

Lady Esmeralda produced a wand from somewhere inside her dress. Or perhaps she'd simply conjured it from the air; Vincent couldn't tell. She tapped it against her chin thoughtfully. "I've been watching you carefully, Prince Vincent, all this week you've been courting me. It never occurred to you I might have another man I cared for more or that I might not be interested in your advances at all, did it? My feelings on the matter were completely irrelevant. But my dear father insisted I give you a chance, and eventually I agreed. Perhaps you were a good man under the princely façade. I quickly realized my error—there is very little under that façade at all. You're spoiled, selfish, and unkind, and you see only the surface of things. You expect your title and good looks to get you everything you want.

"Today was your final test. I've followed you, invisible, for the majority of the day, most of which you spent pleasing yourself and making others' lives more difficult. Not exactly a sterling trait in a future ruler." She raised a mocking eyebrow at him. "And your performance with the old crone was nothing short of cruel. You turned her out to freeze solely because she was ugly. I've seen clearly that there is no love in your heart at all. And for that, you shall be cursed."

Vincent fell to his knees. "Please…is there any way to earn forgiveness? How can I apologize to you?"

Her face softened slightly. "I only offer you a way to break the curse because I've seen the smallest potential for good, deep down inside you. Your one unselfish act today was to save that village boy's life at risk to your own, and you expected no glory or thanks in return. Thus, I condemn you to live without those things you value most: your pleasing appearance and your title. You'll have ten years in the form of a hideous Beast, with the time marked by the wilting of this rose you refused. If you can learn to truly love in this form, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal falls, the curse will be broken and you'll be restored to your former self. If not, you'll be doomed to remain a Beast for the rest of your days." She touched him with her wand, and with a shock Vincent felt himself begin to grow and twist. He screamed. The sound came out an animal's roar.

Behind him, the Comte de Strasbourg had also cried out in horror. Lady Esmeralda turned to him. "Come, Father. I am not unaware I've cast a curse on a Prince of France. I'm casting a spell on the castle and its lands as well. People will forget it and its occupants exist unless the spell is broken, and I'll make it so frightening-looking few will dare to approach it. A fitting dwelling for a monster, don't you think? If you do not wish to be cursed as well, then you should leave, quickly." The Comte skittered towards the door.

Lady Esmeralda knelt in front of the monster that had been Vincent. He was still trying to get to his feet under him now that his knees, shaped like an animal's instead of a man's, bent the opposite way.

"I only said that to get him out of the way," she said in a quiet voice. "I want to give you a gift that belonged to my mother. He wouldn't be happy with me giving away a keepsake of hers. He can be a greedy ass, but he loved her. I hope someday you do find someone you'll love just as much. I know you aren't evil, Prince Vincent, but being spoiled is no excuse for you to disregard others to the point where you treat them as mere objects."

She extracted a delicate silver hand mirror from the same place she'd conjured her wand. "This is a magic mirror. It will show you anything you wish to see in the present—it cannot show the past or future. You have only to ask. It will serve as a window to the outside world and with luck will help you break the curse before the deadline is up. You have ten years to find the one thing you were missing most in your human life. I wish you luck."

Vincent's overwhelmed brain finally gave in and he fainted, just as the train on Lady Esmeralda's gown disappeared through the door.

-0-0-0-

Thus began Vincent's ten tormented years as a Beast. His father never returned from his announced three-day trip—Vincent painfully learned through the mirror he'd forgotten he'd ever had a son.

That was the first time he almost broke the mirror. It was over a year before he found the courage to ask it to show him something outside the castle again. He could also hardly bear to look at the servants, who had been transformed into living objects, and most could hardly bear to look at him. He spent weeks on end either hiding in the West Wing or slipping out into the forest to hunt for his food like the animal he was.

Eventually things settled into a dull pattern. Even memories of being human began to fade with the years. Despite Lady Esmeralda's hopes and supposed good intentions, the conditions of the curse were impossible. He had no idea what love really felt like. He'd thought he loved Lady Esmeralda, and look what that had gotten him. Obviously he'd been missing something crucial all along. And how could he expect a girl to come near him when he was nothing but a monstrous, nightmarish creature instead of a wealthy and handsome young prince?

Who could ever learn to love a Beast?

-0-0-0-

And yet, somehow there existed in the world a girl courageous enough to look past the coarse hair and sharp fangs to see the man struggling not to vanish forever as the curse's deadline approached.

She was a peasant, of all things. Beautiful, yes, but someone he would never have looked twice at in his old life due to her plain linen clothes and unstyled hair. She wasn't silent or biddable, either, as the former Prince Vincent had thought he was attracted to. She didn't chatter incessantly, but she spoke her mind and even had the temerity to shout right back if he yelled at her. She was educated, too, and she read for pleasure, sharing her favorite books with him. He'd never realized how many amazing things were printed on those pages tucked away in the library.

One of the many things he learned from spending time with Belle: love isn't like a flash of lightning. You might feel attraction when you look at someone's outer beauty, but it's when you truly know someone and spend time with them that you come to love them. And so it was with Belle. Gradually, so slowly he didn't realize it was happening at first, he fell hard for her. At first he didn't understand why these feelings of wanting to do things _for_ her, to give her things that made her happy, to see her smile with genuine pleasure, kept welling up inside whenever he looked at her. He'd never felt such things for anyone before. But eventually it came to him that this must be what Lady Esmeralda thought he was missing: this ability to care about someone else and put their wants before his own. If so, then she had been right. He had loved no one before the curse. What he had felt for Lady Esmeralda had been but a cheap reflection of what he now felt for Belle.

As his newfound feelings grew and deepened, he discovered to his own surprise his humanity reasserted itself slowly as well. Not that his form changed, but the human habits he had lost over the years began to return. He wanted to wear real clothes again instead of the tattered rags that had served merely to conceal his beastly shape. He wanted to eat cooked food at a table instead of hunt. He re-taught himself to walk upright instead of on all fours. Even his princely table manners eventually surfaced in his memory, as if they'd only been waiting for him to need them again.

The biggest thing that haunted him was that he doubted Belle could ever love him back. She'd seen him at his absolute worst when they first met, and though she seemed to have forgiven him, he couldn't imagine she could come to love the creature who had locked up her father and threatened her. He had the sense she was the first person after Lady Esmeralda to see him as he really was, and with his new self-awareness he knew there was much besides his appearance to be found wanting. That she spent time with him at all and to all appearances enjoyed his company felt like a small miracle. But he couldn't bring himself to ask her the one question that would set them all free. It still felt impossible.

The servants hadn't given up. They arranged the formal evening in the hopes that such a strong hint at the way humans courted would give their master the courage to say what he needed to. And while it was free of the underlying tension of the night he'd proposed to Lady Esmeralda, he was far more nervous than he'd been on that night.

Dancing was another human skill that had once been effortless, though he'd never had to so quickly re-remember something he'd lost. It seemed as though he blinked and suddenly he was whirling around the floor with Belle as if it were ten years before. He could almost imagine he was leading her with human hands instead of his massive paws.

And then it was over. Belle was gone, never coming back. The Beast knew he could never keep her with him, not if she wanted to go. And that was how he knew he truly loved her—he set her free to make her own choices.

He didn't miss the resemblance between the man who came to kill him and the father of the boy he'd saved from the carriage all those years ago. He wondered if it was the boy, Gaston, all grown up. The irony of it was not lost on him.

The first miracle: Belle returned. And even though he'd been stabbed by Gaston and was dying, the second miracle occurred in that moment: Belle said she loved him. It was too late, but it gave the Beast a final sense of release, knowing his feelings for her were returned and perhaps he'd finally brought some good into someone else's life before he left the world forever.

The third and final miracle: instead of dying, his curse broke at last. He changed back.

-0-0-0-

He was Vincent again. As a spoiled prince, he'd never dreamed of the relief he'd feel just to stand on his own two feet before the woman he loved, and not care that he was barefoot and dressed in nothing but filthy, oversized rags. Now, he was just happy to touch skin beneath his fingers instead of fur as he felt his much smaller chest in amazement, still not quite believing the changes were real.

"Belle, it's me!" he exclaimed, reaching for her. Even his voice was completely different, lighter and missing the deep, resonant growl.

Belle retreated, eyes wide, and Vincent throttled down dismay. Had they come so far, only to be torn apart because of the change in his appearance? He was still the same person inside—if only he could prove it somehow before she became frightened of the total stranger before her!

Instead of trying to explain, some instinct warned him to be patient. He held still and waited. Praying she would somehow recognize him as her Beast, that something in his manner would tell her it was really him in a different shape.

Belle came forward again. Now she was plainly curious instead of afraid. Vincent tried not to move as she tentatively reached up and stroked a lock of his hair between her fingers. Perhaps testing to see if he was real and not a figment of her imagination. At long last, she met his eyes.

Her whole face lit up. "It is you!" she said. Vincent's anxiety fizzed in his chest and vanished. Somehow she'd figured out he wasn't dead, he'd just been remade.

Carefully, Vincent reached forward and ran a hand through her tangled brown hair. Just being able to touch her without taking care for his claws was exhilarating. Their eyes met again, and it seemed as if they had the same idea at the same time. Moving slowly, so she could pull back if she wanted, Vincent leaned down and put his lips to hers. To his surprise, Belle leaned into the kiss as if it was something she'd been waiting for with anticipation. He pulled her in close, hugging her tight to him, suddenly afraid if he let go she'd vanish and it would all turn out to be a dream.

A strange wind rose up, tugging crazily at their hair and clothes. They were forced to break apart when an alarming popping and whistling sound came from overhead. They looked up to see colored lights exploding over the castle. As the lights came raining down in fiery sparkles, everywhere they touched the castle changed to what it had been before the curse. The servants were transformed back into their human shapes as Belle and Vincent watched in amazement. Vincent rushed to hug them. Incredibly, it was all over. He'd learned to love, and found love in return. The curse was broken. They were free.

-0-0-0-

An even greater surprise waited for them when they finally went downstairs to the main hall. Vincent and Belle had taken a few moments—after he explained the curse— to change into clean, dry clothes, and to brush and tie back their hair, though they hated to let the other out of their sight for even an instant. Vincent, however, did take a bit of time to relish the sensation of pulling cloth on over smooth skin instead of fur. Between that and his much smaller size, dressing was so much easier.

Hand in hand, he and Belle descended the staircase to find the main hall empty, but a great deal of noise coming from the ballroom where Cogsworth had gathered all the restored staff. They were just crossing the floor to join everyone else when a knock sounded at the main door.

An eerie sense of déjà vu prickled the hair on Vincent's neck. But before he could decide what to do about it, Belle headed for the door.

"Belle, wait…" Vincent started after her, his feeling of foreboding growing.

Belle opened one of the main doors, peered out, and stepped back with a gasp of surprise. Around her, Vincent could see a blonde woman in a green gown standing on the threshold. He froze.

"Belle?" said a familiar voice.

"Aunt Esmeralda!" Belle exclaimed, clearly shocked but happy. "What are you doing here?"

Lady Esmeralda peered behind Belle and saw Vincent rooted to the spot a few steps away. They stared at each other. She was markedly older, but it was definitely the same woman who had cursed him. Vincent couldn't tell which one of them was more surprised. Unbidden, his mind carried him back to the night he'd first seen her more than a decade ago. He and his cousin Antoine had discussed the lady's older sister…who had run away years before to marry a peasant. Lady Isa_belle_. His eyes flicked now between the two women in front of him, and he saw a resemblance that had completely escaped him before. Despite the dramatic difference in coloring and Belle being a few inches shorter, their faces had a similar shape, they were built identically, and they both carried themselves with the same easy grace.

Belle, his Belle, was Lady Esmeralda's niece, the now-grown daughter of the wayward Lady Isabelle de Strasbourg. It explained how a peasant girl knew refined manners, how to dance, and had had a good education—her mother had once been a noblewoman, and must have brought up her daughter as she had been brought up despite being married to a mere inventor. He had never put the pieces together before, but it explained a lot.

Unaware of the reason for their surprise, Belle hugged her aunt, which Lady Esmeralda warmly returned.

Vincent cleared his throat and found a voice, though it sounded ragged and squeaky to his ear. "Come in."

Lady Esmeralda sent him a look over Belle's head that said she understood full well the significance of the invitation, and allowed Belle to take her hand and bring her inside. "Vincent, this is my mother's youngest sister, Lady Esmeralda de…" Belle trailed off as she glanced between them. One eye narrowed and the opposite eyebrow tilted up in slowly dawning realization. "You know each other already." It was not a question.

"Yes, Belle dear, we do," Lady Esmeralda said after a moment.

"It was _you_ who put that dreadful curse on him?"

"You knew your aunt is an enchantress?" Vincent said, surprised.

"I can see there are some things we need to sort out," said Lady Esmeralda. "Privately, if possible." She glanced at the ballroom doors, which still had the tremendous noise of at least a hundred people celebrating coming from behind it.

"No one should come looking for us in my father's old study, at least for a little while," said Vincent. He led the way through the dining room, thinking how bizarre it was that his life seemed to have come full circle with startling suddenness. Either that or the universe was having an enormous joke at his expense.

When the three of them were ranged around the room, no one seemed to know where to begin. Finally, Vincent managed, "How did you come to be here?" to Lady Esmeralda.

"I sensed the spell had broken at last, and not a moment too soon. I came to offer my congratulations, meet your future bride, and see if you'd be willing to return my mother's mirror…Belle, how did _you _come to be here? Is your father all right?"

"Yes, he's fine," said Belle. "He should be in the ballroom with the servants. He'll be pleased to see you, of course." She looked at Vincent. "She was the only one of my mother's relations who came to visit after my parents married. As an enchantress, she has much more leeway from Count Grand-père to do as she pleases, including ignore that Mama was technically disinherited and the family was supposed to pretend they didn't know her." She smiled fondly at her aunt. "As for how I came to be here…it's a very long story."

"And you didn't know it was Belle?" Vincent broke in. "You didn't arrange for her to be here, somehow, to break the curse?" He doubted it, but still felt he had to ask.

"No, I promise I didn't," Lady Esmeralda said. "I've been away visiting relatives in Hungary with my husband and our own daughters for well over a year. I had no idea it would be Belle who would break your curse, though I knew she and Maurice had moved to the village nearest your castle after Isabelle died. It never crossed my mind she would find her way here, though knowing my niece, I'm not surprised she was able to break the curse. She always did have a way of seeing people clearly." Belle flushed and looked down.

"She saw me when I didn't even know who I was anymore," said Vincent. "And I think the trait must run in the family, since you were the one who first saw through the callow, foolish man I used to be and your sister refused the chance at a noble match to follow her heart."

Both Belle and Lady Esmeralda smiled at him. "You have changed," said Lady Esmeralda, softly.

"So what happens now?" asked Vincent after a moment. "Now that the spell of forgetting you placed on the castle is lifted, will…will everyone remember me? And how do I explain that I haven't seemed to age in ten years?" He'd noticed this oddity when he looked in a restored mirror in the West Wing. None of the servants had aged, either.

Lady Esmeralda looked, to his surprise, slightly guilty. "Ah. That is my fault. Language is very important when casting a spell. When I cast the curse, I specifically said you'd be restored to your former self. And you are, literally. Your human body is exactly as it was when the curse was cast. I didn't realize until afterwards that phrasing it that way meant you wouldn't age with the rest of us—I was still somewhat…inexperienced at casting spells of that magnitude."

"And you are now?" Belle asked. Vincent was amused to hear a slightly cheeky tone to her voice. There must be a great deal of affection between them. He didn't think he'd ever be brave enough to bait an enchantress.

"Fortunately, enchantresses are rarely called on to cast spells so large. I had a lot on my mind that night taking into account the many different aspects of the curse, and to make matters worse, I was angry. I made a mistake," admitted Lady Esmeralda. "My grandmother—your Great-Oma Helga—gave me a dreadful scolding when she found out."

Belle shuddered. "I can only imagine." To Vincent— "Oma Helga was a dragon of a lady, and a very powerful enchantress. Be glad you'll never meet her."

"We also worked out a way to fix it, should the curse ever be broken. Anyone and anything affected by the spell of forgetting will simply believe you—and everyone else in the household—are ten years younger than you are. It's not perfect, but it should keep most people from asking questions. Your father, though—you'll have to tell him the truth. He did forget you for ten years, but he knows your mother died more than twenty years ago. He couldn't have a legitimate twenty-one-year-old son out of the blue."

"I'll need a lot of luck to keep him from locking me in the Maison des Lunes as an imposter, or just plain insane," said Vincent.

"I should have said '_we_'ll have to tell him the truth,'" Lady Esmeralda amended. "I'm not letting you spend ten years alone as Beast under my curse only to be thrown into an asylum the minute you've found your true love and changed back into a man. That's hardly fair. If I have to use my powers in some small way to prove the story is true, then I will."

"Thank you."

"And now, I think it's time I heard the whole story from the beginning," said Lady Esmeralda. "Then we can go down and join the festivities. Or I can leave afterwards, if you think my presence would upset the servants."

Belle and Vincent looked at each other. "It might, if we told them who you were," Belle admitted, and Vincent nodded. He still hadn't quite settled into the idea of Belle being related—and loving as a dear aunt—the woman who had cursed him to those ten miserable, lonely years, no matter how much he might have deserved punishment. In time, he might be pleased to see her, but it would probably be quite some time.

Telling the story of how they had come to meet and fall in love took a shorter amount of time Vincent expected, given the huge changes that the telling encompassed. Lady Esmeralda did not interrupt, but her smile broadened the closer they got to the end. She frowned again when Belle told about her return to the village to tend Maurice, Gaston's abrupt appearance, and his plans. This part of the story Vincent hadn't heard either. Belle had stood up to Gaston just as she'd once stood up to the Beast, but instead of finding her defiance fascinating, as Vincent had, Gaston had apparently only become more determined to break her to his will no matter the cost. It really was too bad that the boy Prince Vincent had given a second chance that day, his one selfless deed that had saved him from being a Beast forever, had grown up to become such a cruel bully.

Belle finished the story with her version of Vincent's transformation from Beast into man. Vincent remembered nothing of it, but listening to Belle's account he thanked his lucky stars by name she hadn't been terrified out of her wits watching his fur disappear and his limbs reshape. But then, if she'd grown up knowing several of her female relatives were enchantresses, at least the whole idea of magic hadn't been as foreign to her as he'd assumed it would be. She might even have suspected he and the servants were under a spell long before the curse was broken.

Lady Esmeralda did not stay long after the story was finished. "I'll let you celebrate privately," she said. "But I'll see you both again soon. Be sure I'll be here when your father arrives, which should be within a few days, to make certain all goes well with that." She curtsied deeply to Vincent, kissed Belle's forehead, and slipped out the door.

Belle and Vincent looked at each other. "Your aunt," Vincent said after a moment.

"I'm still…I can't believe it," said Belle. "Of all the coincidences. And she never so much as hinted how powerful she was. She would do some small parlor tricks and a few helpful household spells for us when she came to visit, but no more. I had no idea she had enough power to curse an entire castle for ten years. And it never occurred to me it might have been she who cast the curse in the first place. I didn't think she had it in her to be so…cruel."

"I failed her test. She was punishing me."

"Test? What test?"

Vincent realized he hadn't told her the earliest part of the story—how he and Lady Esmeralda had met in the first place. And Lady Esmeralda had delicately gotten out the door without having to tell her niece that Vincent had once courted her. He growled under his breath and explained, using as few words as possible.

Belle didn't look as disturbed by this news as he expected. "You're not upset?" he asked.

"It isn't as if I don't have a distasteful past suitor I'd rather forget. At least yours didn't try to kill the person you prefer. She's happy for us and appears to wish us well," she said.

Vincent shrugged and nodded. She had a point. He was just glad she wasn't angry or put off. "Shall we go find the others?"

"Yes, please." He offered his arm, and with a smile, she took it.

-0-0-0-

Lady Esmeralda's prediction held true. Prince Christophe arrived a few days later with his usual small retinue of servants. Vincent was stunned for a moment when his father alighted from his carriage. He'd aged considerably in the past ten years; his hair was nearly completely gray and there were heavy lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. But he still walked with a straight back and had a commanding air. Vincent shocked everyone there—except possibly Belle, who was standing behind him near the door—by flinging his arms around his father and hugging him tight. He hadn't really allowed himself to acknowledge until that moment that living ten years knowing his father had forgotten he ever had a son had wounded him deeply.

His father remained rigid and dignified, but only for a moment. Then he embraced Vincent nearly as hard. He clapped his son on the back, then pulled away.

Vincent, remembering for the first time Cogsworth's instructions, took a step back and bowed. "Father. Welcome back."

"Never mind that, boy. Where have you been?" the Prince demanded. "And why do you look exactly the same as when I last saw you?"

"Father, if you'll come inside, we'll try to explain…"

"We?"

As if on cue, Lady Esmeralda appeared from behind the Prince's carriage. Belle and Vincent both jumped a little at her sudden appearance. Christophe twisted around to see what they were looking at, and frowned in puzzlement.

"Your highnesses." She dipped a proper curtsy first to Vincent's father, then to Vincent himself. She smiled at Belle and nodded.

Somehow they managed to get inside and into a private room. Vincent noticed the servants peeping around corners and from behind doors as they entered the castle, and from over the balconies overhead. Everyone was nervous as to how this first interview would go.

Once they were alone, Vincent bowed again respectfully. "Father, you know Lady Esmeralda."

"Of course." His eyes were on Belle.

"May I present my dear niece, Miss Belle DuPont?" said Lady Esmeralda smoothly. Belle curtsied perfectly.

"Your niece?"

"The daughter of my eldest sister, Lady Isabelle."

"Lady Isabelle. Ah, yes, I remember. The one who—" Christophe stopped himself, glancing at Belle, obviously the product of her mother's choice to marry a commoner. "Is your mother well?" he asked.

"My mother died several years ago, your highness. My father is well," said Belle, dipping a curtsey again.

"Good. Lady Isabelle was much missed among certain court circles when she chose to leave." He smiled a bit wryly. "She was one of the few who spoke her mind. I am sorry to hear of your loss. But that doesn't explain what the two of them are doing here," he added to Vincent.

"Well, I …do you remember…" Vincent looked helplessly at Lady Esmeralda. She sighed, but there was a smile in her exasperation as if she'd known she'd have to do all the talking. She explained. Vincent, watching his father's face, saw it move from shock to disbelief to suspicion to eventual grudging acceptance.

"I don't really want to believe it, but it is the only thing that makes sense of all of this. The other explanation, which I like far less, is that I am losing my mind in my old age and you three for some perverse reason are taking advantage of that. But even then I have trouble ascribing any kind of motive for such a plan, particularly from you." Here he nodded at Lady Esmeralda. "I just hope you're right and most people won't notice the lost ten years."

"If you appear not to notice, I think most people inclined to ask questions will take their cue from you, your highness," said Lady Esmeralda. "In less than a year, with luck, the whole thing will be forgotten by anyone not directly involved."

"And there is much to do in that year," said Christophe. "Vincent, you have missed out on ten years of learning to become ruler of the province in my place. No, I don't anticipate anything dire in the near future and I am in good enough health for my age, but I would have preferred introducing you more gradually to your responsibilities. You, as well," he said, nodding at Belle. "At least, if my assumptions are correct and you intend to make her your wife, Vincent."

Vincent was suddenly very glad in all the bustle to get things returned to normal before his father's arrival he'd found a good chunk of quiet time in the library to propose to Belle. Lumiere had been merciless in fending off the other servants in order to give the pair time alone, particularly Cogsworth who constantly had questions on how this or that should be arranged. Unlike his last proposal, Belle had accepted without reservations. And this time Vincent knew that he was making the right decision and that Belle was the companion of his heart, not just a beautiful woman to display on his arm and bear his children. After all, she had seen him when there was no Prince Vincent, only his lonely shadow trapped inside a hideous monster, and she had deemed him worth getting to know anyway.

There was, however, one more obstacle. Another mistake from the past that had to be remedied. "If you approve, Father, I do plan to make her my princess," he said with a bow.

A small smile tugged the edge of the older prince's mouth. "I would like a few days to get to know my future daughter-in-law, but I anticipate granting hearty approval if she is anything like her mother and her aunt," he said.

Lady Esmeralda's smile was broad. "Much thanks for the flattery, your highness. And now, with your leave, I shall return to my own family. I trust we will see each other again soon when a certain happy event takes place." She curtsied gracefully.

"You do have my leave," Christophe granted. Lady Esmeralda dipped a short but clearly respectful curtsy to Vincent and squeezed Belle's hand before slipping out the door.

"I suppose I shall have to go and greet all of the servants formally as their liege lord now," said the Prince. He actually grinned at the younger pair. "How I have dearly missed Cogsworth's jokes! None of my replacement majordomos have been able to turn a phrase quite as well."

He led the way out the door. Behind his back, Belle raised her eyebrows at Vincent. He shrugged, hoping she would take it to mean he'd explain later. Then they both started to laugh silently.

-0-0-0-

Faster than Vincent believed possible, the week of the wedding arrived. The wedding of a royal prince was an important affair, but everyone involved wanted to avoid drawing attention to it as much as could be managed. Thus while everyone who needed to be invited had accepted and was on their way, the guest list was small for the marriage of someone of Prince Vincent's standing. His father and Cogsworth had between them delicately managed things so that none of Vincent's noble relations would be offended, but this would not be remembered as a particularly noteworthy occasion in the social life of the court, either. Personally, Vincent dreaded the entire thing, except for the very small part where he got to marry Belle. He just didn't really want all of the pomp and circumstance that seemed to be required in conjunction with it. After ten years of being alone but for the servants and, at the end, his future wife, the thought of an entire ballroom full of near-strangers had him waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night, convinced he'd transformed back into the Beast in front of them.

These dreams upset him so much that he failed to notice until a few days before the big event that Belle was also looking a bit pale and pinched, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. When he did notice, he made an effort to corner her in a quiet hallway so they could speak privately. It took a few tries since the castle was now full of people all bustling about preparing for the wedding, but he managed in the end.

"Is something bothering you, Belle?" he whispered. If he was honest with himself, his deepest fear was that she was having second thoughts.

Belle looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. "No, I…" There was a long pause. "Yes."

"You don't want to marry me," he blurted.

"Oh, no! That's not it at all!" She flung her arms around him and pulled him close. He hugged her back, relieved but still concerned. "I do want to marry you, with all my heart. It's just…I'm so sorry…I'm dreading the wedding. I hate crowds. I always used to bury myself in a book so I wouldn't have to notice people staring at me when I walked through the village. And now I'm getting fitted for this awful dress I can barely move in and everyone is telling me 'You're the bride! You're supposed to be looked at on your wedding day!' as if I should be happy about that!" Now she sounded close to tears.

Despite himself, Vincent started to laugh. When Belle looked at him, hurt in her eyes, he said hastily, "I'm not laughing at you, Belle. I just thought I was the only one, but I feel exactly the way you do."

Belle pulled back even further to eye him. "You do?"

He sighed and leaned against the cool marble wall. "Nightmares for weeks now. You?"

She nodded and snuggled back into his hold. They stood that way for awhile, listening to the distant bustle rumbling throughout the castle. Vincent felt himself starting to relax for the first time since the nightmares began. Things might be vastly different from the time when these halls were deathly still and cobwebby, but they still had each other to lean on and sympathize.

Suddenly, he had an idea. Much like his idea to show Belle the magic mirror that had ended with her leaving to find her father, he had no idea what the consequences might be. He just wanted to make her happy.

"Let's go find our fathers," he said, standing up and starting to walk away.

"What? Why?" Belle asked as she trailed behind.

He explained his idea, and was rewarded with a hopeful look. "I…I like it," she said. "But is it possible?"

"That's why I want to discuss it with our fathers. I'd want their approval, in any case. But I'm glad you like the idea."

-0-0-0-

A few days later, Vincent stood at the alter with his wife, listening to the priest recite the marriage vows in Latin. This was the second time they had heard them, as they had been quietly married by this same priest three days previously witnessed only by Christophe, Maurice, and the head servants. That had been Vincent's idea—to be married before only God and their loved ones so that they could spend the days leading up to the official ceremony keeping one another company at night as well as during the day during the final preparations. They both agreed it made the entire thing much more bearable, turning today into nothing more than a spectacle for others. The important things had already been said.

The nightmares had disappeared, as had the dark circles under Belle's eyes and the peaked look of her cheekbones. She'd told him the day before he also looked much better. They hadn't spent the night together last night since technically Vincent wasn't supposed to see his bride on the wedding day until the ceremony. Cogsworth had been most insistent that this tradition be upheld even though the pair were already husband and wife. Belle and Vincent had finally given in rather than argue with the already badly-stressed Cogsworth. Lumiere, who was also present, had winked suggestively at them and told them their fun could be postponed for just one night, causing Belle and Vincent to blush deeply and glare daggers at him. Faced with the wrath of both of them, Lumiere scampered out the door.

Vincent wasn't sure what the point of keeping them apart the night before the wedding was. He could barely see Belle now under her veil and the layers of her dress even though she was standing next to him and holding his hand. As she had complained, the dress was stiff and heavy and covered with jewels and embroidery, though if she had trouble moving in it it was not evident as she walked down the aisle.

Realizing he had tuned out of the ceremony, Vincent pulled his attention back to the present in time to repeat his vows. Finally, the moment came when Belle lifted her veil and he could give her their first public kiss and husband and wife. Vincent smiled, relieved to discover it really was his Belle under all of that lace. Belle smiled back, a brilliant smile that made his heart stop and he temporarily forgot what he was supposed to do next. It was Belle who reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Then his brain finally caught up and he was able to kiss her back, pulling her in as close as her dress would allow. The watching audience applauded as the chapel organ sounded triumphal notes. Out of the corner of his eye as he broke away from Belle to lead her back down the aisle to their wedding ball, Vincent saw Lady Esmeralda, standing with her husband and their children, applauding more enthusiastically than anyone else.

In all his years as a Beast and as a spoiled prince, Vincent had never imagined his wedding day would be anything like this, or that the woman he would marry would be someone as extraordinary as the woman he now kissed. Vincent had once believed a girl would count herself lucky to be his bride. But now, he considered himself the lucky one, lucky that he was the man Belle had chosen to give her love to despite their unenviable beginning and the sometimes bizarre twists their lives had taken since that day. Somehow they had ended up here, safe with each other, and a future together.

Really, was anyone luckier than that?

* * *

_Author's Note: It's been awhile since I've posted anything other than a few drabbles. That's what this story was supposed to be, but it got away from me and I just kept adding and adding. What gave me the idea were two things: one, reading the Disney-published novel _The Beast Within_ by Serena Valentino, which purports to be the Beast's backstory. I don't recommend you read this book, as a lot of it is completely inconsistent with movie canon to the point where I questioned whether the author actually watched the movie more than once just to get the character names and the bare story outline before sitting down to write. However, she does do a few interesting things, one of which is connect the Beast/Prince and the Enchantress romantically. This harkens back to the original French version of the tale in which the Beast is cursed not because he had no love in his heart, but because he refused to marry his fairy godmother. In a fit of what I suppose is "If I can't have him, no one can," the enraged fairy curses him to find a woman who will agree to marry him without the benefit of his title, good looks, and quick wit. Most modern retellings seem unaware of this early version of the curse (and I imagine Valentino didn't reference it on purpose given how little research was put into her book in general, though I will give her the benefit of the doubt), preferring to follow Disney with the idea that the Prince was cursed because he needed to learn a lesson. My thought was that I could use the idea but see if it could be incorporated more smoothly into Disney canon established by the movie. I also thought it would be fun if Belle and the Enchantress turned out to be related, and if the Prince could actually have a semi-decent relationship with his father (who is not dead, which is a backstory I've used before and I wanted to challenge myself to be different without straying from canon)._

_Speaking of which, as usual I have to put some note here or people will be all over me in reviews trying to tell me something they think I'm unaware of. I know the current thinking is that Disney calls the Prince Adam. I chose otherwise, because it's not established in the movie that that's his name. I've used Vincent before; it's the name of the Beast character in the 80s and recent CW TV shows, and it seemed to fit here. I didn't want him getting mixed up with the Beast in my Kissed By a Rose universe so I didn't use Alexander, either._

_SamoaPhoenix9_


End file.
